Backward
by percussaresurgo
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is the baker's daughter, best friend of Madge Undersee and secret admirer of Seam boy Peeta Mellark. Life in District 12 is average, until the 74th Annual Hunger Games intertwines the lives of Katniss, Madge, Peeta, and Gale forever. AU, Everlark and Gadge.
1. Chapter 1

Katniss Everdeen wakes up before the sun, like most mornings in the apartment above Everdeen's, District 12's only bakery. Rising slowly, she smiles slightly at the clatter of her younger sister, Prim. Hurriedly, she throws on jeans and a tank top before heading downstairs to help her father and her sister.

"Where's mom?" she asks. Her small blonde sister, just thirteen years old, stands near her father, kneading dough.

"Apothecary!" her sister chirps. Her little brow furrows as she continues her work. Katniss laughs.

"Little Duck, go help mom. You're much better at healing than you are at baking."

Prim sticks her tongue out but smiles, says goodbye, and crosses the street to their mother's apothecary. When their grandfather had passed away two years ago, their mother had stopped work at the bakery to resume her work in her family's old shop.

"Good morning, Mockingjay!" her dad exclaims jovially.

"Morning, Pop," she replies happily. "So what are we making today?"

"Well, it's Sunday, so we oughta bake the trading loaves first. The boys have been coming by earlier and earlier, I swear."

Katniss bites back a smile and nods, hurriedly kneading the dough in front of her.

"I see that blush," her father teases.

"Dad!" Katniss groans.

"Okay, okay," he laughs, raising both of his hands in surrender. "If you don't want to talk about your knight in shining armor, then at least get a couple more loaves going."

She rolls her eyes at him and continues to go about her work, humming along with her father and occasionally picking up a song, absentmindedly singing it together. Before she knows it, it is eight o'clock and there is a knock on the door. Without thinking about it, she brushes a flour-covered hand over her hair and swings open the back door to the kitchen, resisting the urge to shriek as she sees Peeta Mellark and Gale Hawthorne standing at her doorstep. The blonde one smiles at her while the taller, older brunette gives a terse nod in greeting. She sees a small bag of strawberries in his hand and resists the urge to run inside and call Madge really fast to warn her of Gale Hawthorne's imminent arrival at her house.

"Uh, Katniss?" Peeta asks politely. "You okay?"

"Yeah! Sorry! Uh, I'll grab my dad."

She shoots back into the house and slams the door, leaning against it and wincing. When she opens her eyes she sees her dad attempting to hide his laughter.

"Dad," Katniss whispers harshly. "Stop!"

"Alright, my Mockingjay," he laughs goodnaturedly. "Move out of the way so I can trade with your future husband."

Before she can retort, her dad has swung open the door again, and Peeta and Gale look back at her once more. She notices a slight pink tinge to Peeta's cheeks and she prays that he didn't hear anything her father said.

"Hello, Mr. Everdeen," Peeta says, nodding his head respectfully. Mr. Everdeen smiles.

"Peeta, I've told you a hundred times. Just call me Clarke, please."

"Sorry, Mr. Everdeen," Peeta says hurriedly, cringing as Gale barks out a laugh. "I mean, Clarke."

"Here," Gale mercifully steps in. "This is the haul for the day." He offers up a rabbit and two squirrels, which Mr. Everdeen appraises.

"As usual, great job, boys. I'll take the two squirrels," Clarke says. "Kat, grab me the bag on the counter, will ya? I forgot."

Katniss nods wordlessly and shoots back inside, quickly snatching the brown paper bag on the counter. She returns with it and finds that her father is somehow already gone. Peeta gives her a small smile.

"He went across the street to tell your mom something."

"Oh, okay," Katniss replies, and then realizes how cold it sounds. She's never been naturally social with anyone outside of her family or Madge. Gale, whose grey eyes match her own, makes her less nervous, so she focuses her gaze on him and hands him the bag. "Well then, here you go. Thanks for the squirrels. You always get them right through the eye."

"Oh, that's not me," Gale laughs. "That's all Peet here. He does the shooting, I do the trapping."

Katniss nods as though she knows what they're talking about. "Done for the day then?"

Gale looks at her oddly; she usually doesn't really talk to them at all. Peeta, however, continues the conversation.

"We just have to swing by the mayor's house and bring strawberries to Madge."

"I'm hoping to go over there later today," Katniss says. "I was supposed to visit yesterday but then I ended up getting caught up at work."

"Peeta," Gale says, his voice strangely hard. "Come on, we need to go."

"Okay," Peeta says, appearing to shake himself out of something. "Yeah, you're right. Bye, Katniss."

"Bye!" she says, but they're already walking away down the path toward the Mayor's back door, just a few doors down.

"Why don't you just ask him to hang out sometime?" Prim says suddenly, appearing from the side of the house.

"Primrose!" Katniss scolds, but her heart isn't in it and her blonde sister can tell. "How long have you been there?"

"Since dad threw you to the wolves," Prim laughs, and Katniss can't help but join her.

"He wouldn't want to hang out with me," Katniss finally answers. "He's very kind and friendly, but I hear he doesn't really have any interest in girls. He's too busy, providing for his brothers."

Prim nods in understanding. One of Peeta's younger brothers is in her grade, the other a couple grades younger.

"Well, maybe it would be nice for him to have something for himself," Prim says sweetly. "You'll never know unless you give it a try."

"If I'm even going to think about that," Katniss says, "it's got to be after this afternoon."

Prim's face pales. "You're right."

Today is Reaping Day, and two teenagers will be sent into an Arena by the Capitol to fight to the death for entertainment. Katniss swallows a large lump in her throat, praying that above all else, Prim's name isn't called. A close second is a prayer that neither Peeta nor one of his two younger brothers is called. She then scolds herself for not thinking of her best friend Madge, and sends a quick prayer for the mayor's daughter too.

"Speaking of," Katniss says, just as they hear their mother calling them into the house to get dressed. "We'd better get ready, then, Little Duck."

Katniss dresses in a blue cotton dress, her mother having braided her hair into a complex, gorgeous side plait. Prim grasps her hand with a surprising amount of strength as they make their way to the town square with their parents. Both of them receive tight hugs and whispers of good luck before going to sign in, letting their fingers be pricked. This is Prim's second Reaping, so she needs no instruction. Katniss squeezes her hand once.

"Tuck in your tail, Little Duck," she smiles.. The grin feels heavy on her face, though, and she retreats into the line of seventeen year olds. After this, there is only one more year to make it through. But Prim has five more after this, so Katniss knows she will have her heart in her throat for several more years to come.

Effie Trinket hobbles onto the stage, and the only remaining victor from District 12 is so drunk he nearly pukes on camera. The children below the stage watch the stock footage that the Capitol makes them watch every single year, explaining the terrible deeds of the District and the justification behind the Capitol's Hunger Games. Katniss resists the urge to roll her eyes. She feels a hand slip on to her arm and give it a gentle squeeze and looks to her right to find the bright blue eyes of the mayor's daughter, Madge Undersee. Katniss is Madge's only real friend, and the reverse is true as well. Naturally subdued, the other girls from town, like Delly Cartwright, were always too exuberant for her. Madge, on the other hand, was witty but in a quiet, sarcastic way, and kind, but in a genuine sense that entirely lacked pretense. The two of them had become fast friends at a young age, but in the last two years, they had been placed in separate lunch periods. Katniss was placed in the same lunch hour as Prim, but Madge was alone, until Peeta Mellark began sitting with her since nobody else had the nerve to sit beside the mayor's daughter.

And so, at the Reaping, Madge looks over to the boys' side and exchanges a weighted glance with Peeta Mellark, giving him a quaky smile, which he returns, only his appears genuine. Peeta Mallark's smiles always appear genuine, Katniss realizes, shaking herself for staring at him so blatantly.

"Gee, Kat, take a picture why don't you," Madge murmurs under her breath, and Katniss lets out a breath of laughter, but quickly shuts her lips tightly. Now is not the time or place for laughter.

"Ladies first," Effie Trinket trills. Madge can almost swear that she sees a sense of darkness behind Effie's eyes, a hint of anger there, a hint of regret, but she can't be sure. She shakes herself and straightens her spine, trying to prepare herself for the unpreparable. She sucks in a breath and holds it, eyes closed while her fingers grasp Katniss' tightly. _Please not me. Please not Katniss. Please not—_

Her thoughts are cut off as Effie's voice rings out.

"Primrose Everdeen."

A scream instantly rips from Katniss's throat, and Madge feels her heart cease beating. She's unsure when it starts up again, but at some point she feels her feet push forward, in front of Katniss, who has sunk to her knees and begun yelling.

"NO! PRIM!"

But Madge remembers something that very few District 12 residents do, because it doesn't happen here; individuals may volunteer as tribute.

"I volunteer!" Madge shrieks, throwing her body in front of little Primrose, who stands in shock between two Peacekeepers. She tries to keep the tremor out of her voice as she swallows hard and repeats herself in a more understandable but nearly as loud tone. "I volunteer as tribute."

Effie's purple lips drop open slightly but she recovers and smiles dazzlingly. "A volunteer! Why I don't think that's ever happened here!"

Katniss, in the meantime, is being picked up off of the ground by Primrose, who holds her tightly. Madge can see her lips forming the blonde's name as she takes the stage but she tears her eyes away from her best friend and her kid sister. If there are any two individuals that Madge would never allow to step into the Hunger Games, it would be Primrose or Katniss Everdeen. Had Katniss not been in such shock, and remembered the rule, she would have volunteered first; Madge knows that.

"I see a resemblance. I assume you are also an Everdeen?" Effie asks, but Madge knows that it's fake. She knows that Effie knows that she is the mayor's daughter, and is probably hoping that the Capitol has forgotten her face since last year. After all, Capitol citizens would not take well to a higher-up's daughter being slaughtered.

Madge doesn't care much what the Capitol citizens want, though, so she narrows her cornflower eyes and hisses into the microphone.

"My name is Margaret Undersee. My father is the mayor, and Primrose Everdeen is my best friend's little sister. I love her as my own."

Then the microphone is snatched away from Madge's mouth before she continue talking.

"Touching," Effie says, her voice empty but her eyes betraying something that Madge can barely catch; disgust. At who, Madge isn't sure. "Now on to the young men."

Madge looks into the audience and sees Peeta staring at her gravely, his blue eyes so like her own. He places three fingers to his lips and holds them up toward the sky, a universal District 12 symbol that means goodbye. After this action, every person in the square does the same. Madge screws her eyes shut and wills herself not to cry.

She is a Donner. She is an Undersee. She will not cry. She does, however, repeat the gesture, just as Effie clears her throat in discomfort and places her manicured hand into the other glass bowl and draws another slip of paper.

"Gale Hawthorne," Effie Trinket reads, her voice clear and crisp. Effie Trinket has no idea what she has just done, but Madge feels her heart shatter as she stares into the shocked grey eyes of Gale Hawthorne. Peeta, from his place beside his best friend, goes to open his mouth, and Madge prays he won't volunteer but also prays that he will, because she can't imagine which one would be worse to have to watch die, when a small voice suddenly breaks out through the crowd.

"I volunteer," a small, olive-skinned boy says, his clothing too big on his frame and his dark hair poorly slicked back. Pieces of it stick up everywhere and even he seems surprised at his own voice.

"RORY NO!" Gale screams, and Madge winces visibly at the sound, because it sounds as though the words are being forcibly ripped from Gale's throat. Madge has only heard that sound come from her own throat, directed at her father, and she snaps her eyes shut again and tries to forget that as she tries to pretend to be somewhere else.

"I VETO!" Gale yells. "I VOLUNTEER."

Effie Trinket makes a tsk sound with her tongue and shakes her head, her ridiculous hair bobbling from side to side.

"Once on person volunteers within sixty seconds, they become the official tribute."

She then grins and flourishes an arm out toward young Rory Hawthorne, who cautiously approaches the stage. He murmurs his name into the microphone, trying not to sniffle too loudly.

"I present the tributes of District 12 for the 74th Annual Hunger Games…Margaret Undersee and Rory Hawthorne!" Effie squeals excitedly.

Tears are streaming down Rory's face as he reaches a shaking hand out toward Madge. His hand is covered in coal, and on her finger she wears a sparkling diamond ring in the shape of a heart, but she firmly clasps his hand with both of her own and looks him in the eyes.

"Rory," she whispers, so the microphones cannot pick up her words. "Rory I am going to protect you. It's going to be fine. I'll see you on the train."

They are then separated as they are ushered into the Justice Hall. She is placed in a room to the right, he to the left, and Madge sits down in the large yellow chair that sits in the room, awaiting her first visitor.

Peeta Mellark, of all people, is the first person in the room, and she quickly stands.

"Peeta, I promise you, I am going to get Rory out of there alive," Madge says, trying not to choke on the words, because in saying them, she is promising that she will die for the twelve year old boy in the room down the hall.

"Madge," he says sadly, gathering her in his arms. "Madge, why did you do that?"

She pins him with a blue-eyed stare and sighs. "You know why."

"You know she's never going to forgive herself," Peeta mumbles, brushing her bangs from her face. "You have to come back."

"And what would become of Gale?" Madge snaps, stepping away from him. "Your best friend? Or have you forgotten that _his younger brother just volunteered for him." _

Peeta runs tired hands over his face and she notices the dirt that remains from his hunt earlier still embedded in his fingernails. "No matter what, one of them is going to go insane by the end of this. You know that."

"I know," I say quietly. "But Peeta, you have to bring them out. I need you to look after Katniss."

"I don't think she'll want me to—"

"You really don't know, do you?" Madge laughs, and the sound surprises her. It apparently surprises Peeta, too, because his blue eyes snap to her quickly. "The effect that you have on her?"

Peeta's brow crinkles in confusion, but he is suddenly being lead out of the door.

"You're smart!" he yells. "And resourceful! You can do this!"

She shakes her blonde curls, left down for the Reaping, and yells back to him just as the doors close. "Promise me! Promise me you will take care of her!"

She can hear a muffled smack of a hand against the door and the words "I promise" repeated like a mantra before a scuffle. The Peacekeepers have carted him away.

The next time the doors fly open, it is Katniss Everdeen, her face streaked with tears. She throws her skinny arms around her best friend and squeezes as tightly as she can.

"Madge, why?" Katniss whimpers. "It should be me. It should be me."

Madge grits her teeth and pushes the brunette far enough from her so that she can see her face.

"Katniss, you know that Prim would not survive that. You know she wouldn't. Prim needs you more than anything. And I need you more than anything. Nobody will miss me when I'm gone, Katniss, but you mean too much to too many people."

"That's not true!" Katniss spits, and Madge is relieved to see a familiar fire light up her grey eyes. "How am I supposed to be okay after this, Madge? I need you! You're my best friend! My only friend!"

"Katniss, it's going to be okay," Madge attempts to assure her. "I promise you, it will be okay."

"No it's not," she snarls. "Nothing is ever going to be okay."

"Kat," Madge sighs, hugging her again. "I love you, okay? Don't ever forget that."

"I love you too," Katniss concedes, squeezing her one last time before the door opens once again, signaling the end of their time together.

And then she is gone, and replaced with a sobbing Prim, and Madge spends her five minutes with Prim holding her, shedding silent tears onto the top of her blonde head and telling her to forgive herself, that nothing is her fault, that she should remember whose fault this all is.

"I love you, Duckie," Madge says with a watery smile. "No matter what happens, no matter what you see, you remember that. And you remember that none of this, not a single damn second of it, is your fault, Primrose."

Prim nods and then she is gone, too, and Madge sighs, throwing herself back into the chair. She knows that her mother cannot come; she is at home in her bed, slowly dying, and she probably will not hear of this until it is aired on television in the evening. She certainly knows that her father will not come. She rubs the bruise on her left side as she thinks of this; oh yes, he will not be coming to tell her that he loves her.

The doors do swing open, again, though, and she's shocked to see Gale Hawthorne stride in, shoulders tight and jaw squared.

"Listen, Princess," he growls. "I fucking swear to you, if you make it back here and my brother doesn't, I will ruin you."

Madge flinches slightly, backing away from his towering form, but she squares her shoulders and looks at him right in the eye.

"Gale," she says, and his eyes seem to narrow at the use of his first name. "Gale, I'm not going to let anything happen to Rory and I have no intention of winning these Games. There's almost no way for me to really assure you of that, but I need you to take my word for it. Like with Posy."

He grits his teeth harder at this and she can almost hear them grind together. "Great. Another thing I owe you that I can't pay back."

"You don't owe me anything, Gale," Madge nearly whispers. She lets herself become vulnerable, just for a moment. "And one day maybe you'll know why. Maybe I'll have Rory tell you, when he gets back, because he will get back Gale. Rory is going to survive this. I swear to you, I will get him home to you."

"How do you plan on doing that, Undersee?"

Madge simply blinks, staring at him and wondering how someone who has known her for her entire life can know so little about her, so little about her talents and her skills and her personality. "I have my ways, Gale. And they're not going to fail you."

Then the Peacekeepers come and she is escorted to the train, where she sits and waits for Rory Hawthorne and their mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, to join her.


	2. Chapter 2

**I normally don't really like stories that alternate point of views and whatnot, but I've decided to give it a try because I do really like writing first person. For now it's going to alternate between Katniss and Madge's POVs, but I may include Gale and Peeta's at some point. Let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who's favorited, reviewed, or followed! I really appreciate the feedback, and I'm really trying to work on developing the characters in a way that keeps them more in character. **

I approach Gale Hawthorne in the Town Square that night, for the mandatory viewing. He clutches a small toddler on his hip, probably about four years old, and a little boy of about six or seven has his arms wrapped around one of his legs. Peeta Mellark stands to his right, a young little boy gripping his pants at the knee and his arm around his other brother. I'm pretty sure that the smaller Mellark brother's name is Aspen, but I'm not completely sure. The boy on Aspen's other side is Prim's age, and she smiles weakly at him.

"Do you mind if we watch with you?" Prim asks Gale and Peeta in her sweet voice. Gale looks at her sharply and I immediately bristle. Prim looks taken aback; nearly everyone in the entire District is fond of Prim, and adverse reactions are not the norm for her. Whether he's a hunter or not, I will not hesitate to skin him alive if he hurts my sister's feelings. "Rory is my friend," she continues, "and of course Madge. I think we should all go through this together."

Gale deliberates for a moment, looking over Prim's face and then mine before hoisting the small girl higher onto his hip and nodding once, remaining silent. I take his silence as tacit consent and stand awkwardly near my overly-friendly sister. I would have been perfectly content watching from the corner with Prim as my only company, but she insisted that we show a unified support for the District 12 tributes. Secretly, I think she may have a bit of a crush on Rory Hawthorne, but I know that asking her about it will only hurt her.

"Hi Prim," the second eldest Mellark brother says. His hair is an in-between shade of brown and blonde, unlike Peeta's golden hair, or the mousy brown hair of the youngest brother. His eyes are grey, like mine, not like the sparkly blue of his older brother.

"Hello, Cedar," Prim says politely, nodding her head at him once. She moves to stand closer to him. "I'm sorry about Rory."

"So am I," Cedar says, shrugging his shoulder apologetically. "You guys are friends, too. And Madge. That just…really sucks."

Prim sighs heavily. "It does. It does suck."

"How are you, Katniss?" Peeta says from over Gale's body.

"I'm okay," I say carefully, eying Gale. I don't want to make it seem like I'm more upset about my friend than he is about his brother, or anything else that might set him off. His tense shoulders put me on edge. "As good as can be expected."

Peeta gives me a reassuring smile, and I quell the urge to absolutely grin back. "Madge will be okay. She's tougher than she seems."

Gale gives Peeta a look that could cut steel, but the blonde doesn't shrink away and instead meets his eyes with a slight challenge and moves closer to me. On instinct I step back a little bit, but he doesn't seem to be too deterred by it.

"This is Aspen, by the way," Peeta says, indicating the younger boy. He laughs kindly as his younger brother colors. "Say hi, Aspen."

"Hi Katniss," the boy mumbles, hiding his face in Peeta's dirty olive green, faded shirt.

"Hello," I say quietly in return.

Peeta reaches over and pokes the little girl in Gale's arm in the belly with a grin. "This pretty little thing is Posy, and this guy's name is Vick," Peeta introduces, ruffling Vick's dark hair and earning a slight smile from him. His ease with Gale's younger siblings surprises me, but I'm not sure why; I've seen him interact with them a handful of times, and they've always seemed nearly like family.

It reminds me painfully of how Madge interacts with Prim. Prim was barely a toddler when Madge started coming over after school nearly every day, and since Madge is an only child, she essentially adopted Prim as her own baby sister. I've never been particularly gifted at the more feminine arts, but Madge has spent hours upon hours with Prim, talking about how best to intertwine ribbons in a braid and putting my sister's blonde locks into intricate hairstyles. I glance at Prim and notice with a pang of both sadness and pride that she is wearing Madge's favorite red hair ribbon, which she had given to Prim as a good luck gift for the Reaping. The ribbon is obviously anything but good luck, but it remains intertwined in her braided bun anyway.

I murmur a quiet hello to the kids with what I hope is a friendly smile, but then the national anthem plays and the Capitol seal displays on the screen before the airing begins. Tonight is the night of the Tribute Parade, and I've been anxious all day, praying that whatever stylists District 12 got this year won't put them in ridiculous coal miner outfits like every other year, especially given the fact that Rory's father died in the mines. My hand automatically seeks Prim's, squeezing it tightly, and I'm surprised to see that Peeta is still giving me an encouraging smile. Something about his ability to smile almost constantly is both comforting and disconcerting. I fight to keep the scowl off of my face, but the best I can manage is an ambivalent expression.

"_You, Katniss Everdeen, have a serious case of chronic bitch face," Madge laughs, and Katniss scoffs, pushing her best friend. _

_"Hey!" _

_"You do!" Madge giggles, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Don't get me wrong, it works to our advantage. Keeps all the perky ones away." _

"They'll do great, you'll see," he says, his voice low. I'm torn from my memories of Madge and watch as Peeta moves closer to his own best friend, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Gale turns ever so slightly, nodding at Peeta in recognition.

"He's just a kid," I hear Gale murmur in a strangled voice, obviously trying to save his small sister the anguish of understanding why Rory will be on the television screen any minute now.

"He's not just a kid," Peeta says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "He's a Hawthorne. We've got to believe that he can do this."

The parade begins, and the districts are generally dressed in the standard way, in overly obvious indications of what their district produces. I wince when I see how scantily-clad the Career districts are, and I pray that they won't do that with Madge. I can just imagine how red her face would be. I try not to think about how gigantic most of the tributes seem, and how fierce the Careers' scowls are as their chariots roll by.

Finally, it's District 12's turn, and I feel my eyes go wider than they've ever gone in my entire life. I'm afraid they might be stuck that way. Madge and Rory look…absolutely radiant. They are dressed in tight black suits, and although it's not the most flattering look on Rory's thin frame, the flames that surround them like capes make their skin glow a light orange. I have no idea how they're not burning up, because the flames look completely real.

"Holy shit," I hear Gale exhale. "They look…"

"Amazing," Peeta beams. His grin could split his face in half, and he hoists his youngest brother up so he can get a better view.

"Wow!" Aspen exclaims happily. "Peeta, look! Look how cool Rory looks!"

"I know, bud!" Peeta says excitedly, "Don't him and Madge look the best?"

"The very best!"

I find myself smiling too, unable to contain myself as Prim squeals happily. "They're stealing the show!" she nearly shouts. "Oh, Katniss, look! She's so beautiful!"

And she's completely right. Madge has always had a striking smile, but with her eyes lined in black and red makeup and her lips a shiny cherry color, her features are even more gorgeous. Rory is a little bit shy, but Madge pokes him in the side with a sisterly smile and he smiles back. She grabs his hand and holds it up, gesturing to him grandly. The crowd goes wild at their display of togetherness, and I have to admit that their little routine is actually pretty adorable. Madge has never had a sibling, but her interactions with Prim have lead to a natural ability to connect with younger kids. It's evident even from their silent chariot ride that the two have already become close, and I try to force the feeling of dread in my gut away and just enjoy the smiling face of my best friend.

"What is she doing?" Gale growls, and my grey eyes snap to meet his.

"What do you mean?"

"She's making him look like a little kid."

"He is a little kid," I argue. "And she's making them look like friends. Like she cares about him. The Capitol is eating it up, they love them!"

"This is the most attention District 12 has ever gotten in a Tribute Parade," Peeta reasons. "Whatever she's trying to do, it's working, Gale."

"She's making him look weak."

"No she isn't!" I exclaim angrily. "She's gaining sponsors for them. Your brother is only thirteen years old, Gale, he's going to need all the help he can get and I can tell you right now that it's pretty obvious my best friend has no intention of coming home. She's going to save him so you should be thankful for that."

He blinks at me, surprised by my outburst, but I don't back down. I saw the look in Madge's eyes at the end of the broadcast and I can already tell that she's going to sacrifice herself for Gale Hawthorne's younger brother, and I'll be damned if he doesn't at least respect her for that. She's a joke to him, the Mayor's frivolous daughter, but she is my best friend willing to die to save his sibling, who only found herself in that position because she stepped in to save the life of my Prim.

"She may think she's going to save him now, but when they get in that Arena she's going to be out for herself like everyone else. Not like she's going to last long anyway, she's too soft. She'll probably be one of the first to go."

My hand makes contact with his cheek before I can even think about it, and I wince as the toddler in his arms begin to cry. I want to apologize, but at the same time, I'm not sorry.

"Fuck you," I spit, even though there are younger children around us. "That is my _best friend _and you know _absolutely nothing _about her or her life. When your brother comes home, and it's because of her, you're going to really be kicking yourself and I hope you drown in that guilt."

Gale stands there, a hand pressed against his face and his brow furrowed before he tugs at Vick and shoots Peeta a look. "Come on, Vick, let's go. Aspen, Cedar, you coming home?"

They look up at Peeta with grey-blue eyes and he gives them a smile. "You guys head back with Gale, okay? I'll come grab you from the Hawthorne's when I get back."

"Okay, Peet," Cedar says. "See you later, Prim," he says quietly.

"Goodnight, Cedar," she replies, equally quiet. "Katniss, I'm going to go see if Mom needs any help closing up the apothecary."

Before I can say anything, she's gone, leaving me alone with Peeta Mellark in the Town Square. After I've just slapped his best friend.

"Sorry," I mumble grudgingly. "I shouldn't have hit him."

"Nah, you probably should have," he says easily, and my head snaps to him in shock. He gives me a smirk. "Gale's my best friend, but the guy can be kind of…well, he can be a dick."

I let out a snort of laughter, never having heard Peeta Mellark curse before. "He's under a lot of pressure," I say flimsily.

"So is everyone else," he shrugs. "I don't think he gives Madge enough credit. I think sometimes he forgets she's my friend, too."

"I'm glad that you talk about her in present tense," I say to him suddenly. "Most people around here, they're already talking about both of them like they're dead."

"I know. But I don't see the point in that. There's always hope."

"Only for one of them," I say darkly. I can't help but feel bitter; I know that my best friend won't be coming home.

"You never know," Peeta says hopefully. "Maybe something crazy will happen. A rule change, or something."

"You know that won't happen," I say, almost angrily. "I have to come to terms with the fact that she's not coming back."

"Okay," he says, raising his hands in the air in surrender. "Okay. I'm sorry. I can understand that. But listen…this is going to sound weird. But she wanted me to look after you."

I open my mouth, wanting to protest, and he smiles a lopsided grin and cuts me off. "I'm very sure that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. And I already have two younger brothers to look after, but I just wanted you to know that if you ever want someone to hang out with or talk to….I'm here for you, Katniss. And Prim, too, of course."

I don't think he's noticed that he's rambling a bit, and I can't decide if I should let him keep talking or cut him off. He finally seems to notice, though, and his cheeks turn pink as he smacks his lips together.

"And I'm talking too much," he says, rubbing the back of his neck and wrinkling his nose a little.

"No you're not," I say automatically. "I like listening to you talk."

His eyebrows raise and I feel my own face growing hot. "You do?"

I roll my eyes. "Doesn't the entire District?"

And it's true. Despite being from the Seam, even all of the Merchant families adore Peeta Mellark. I'm pretty sure that he's going to work in the mines, but it wouldn't surprise me if he was at least offered an apprenticeship with one of the Merchants who doesn't have kids of their own. Maybe it's the way he looks, or maybe it's just his charm. Either way, Peeta Mellark is easily one of the most well liked people in the entire town.

He rolls his eyes right back. "There are definitely a few people who would probably disagree with you."

I shake my head at him, but start to run out of possible topics. "Your little brothers are adorable," I spit out. A wide grin takes over his face.

"They're alright," he says with a shrug. "I guess I'll keep them for now."

"Maybe you can have Prim, too, if you're collecting children," I joke, and he laughs.

"I don't think I'd know what to do with a girl."

"You seem to do just fine with girls," I tease, and resist the urge to slap a hand over my own face as soon as the words leave my mouth. I don't often find myself chatting with boys, especially not Peeta Mellark. Flirting is obviously not in my wheelhouse. Baking, sure. I'm decent at school, and I consider myself to be a pretty good older sister. What I'm not, however, is a gifted flirt.

He laughs again. "You must be thinking of Gale," he says easily. There's a beat of comfortable silence as we both start to subconsciously walk. He looks at me suddenly, his blue eyes extra bright under the lights of the Town Square. "Hey, do you want to go somewhere with me?"

"Um," I stutter, looking around. My parents are gone already, and I know Prim got home safely. I think of what Madge would tell me to do, if she were here, and I know she would kill me for not going. I smile at him as best as I can muster through my nerves. "Sure, why not?"

Peeta looks relieved. "Great. Follow me!"

We walk together toward the Seam, making conversation that comes much easier to me than I expect it to. Peeta has a way of making people feel comfortable, and it's a skill that evidently is effective with me, too, which surprises me, given that Madge is pretty much the only person that I talk to other than Prim. Just as we reach the Seam, he snatches my hand and starts pulling me down a small, unlit and practically unmarked trail.

"If this is the part where you murder me, know that I won't go quietly," I joke, my voice only at half of its normal volume. Something about the empty trail makes me feel like I should be whispering. He turns around and in the dark I can make out the gleam of his smile.

"You caught me, that's been the plan all along. Kill the baker's daughter and create a bread empire for myself. Peeta Mellark: Boy with the Bread."

"It has a certain ring to it," I reply. His joking face becomes serious as we find ourselves in a large, grassy clearing. If I didn't know any better, I would think we were beyond the fence. "Wow," I breathe. I stare up at the sky, eyes wide. "You can see so many stars out here."

"Yeah," Peeta says distractedly. "Listen, Katniss, I never got to thank you for that time with the bread."

"Hm?"

"When we were thirteen," he says, and for the first time it seems like his words are coming out with difficulty. "I was starving and so were my kid brothers, and you saw me trying to root through the trash outside of the bakery. I heard you beg your dad if you could bring me some bread. And those two loaves of bread probably didn't seem like much to you, but a couple of days later I went beyond the fence and found my dad's old bow, started hunting, met Gale…I owe you my life, really, and I've always wanted to thank you for that."

"I could have done more," I argue weakly. "I really could have. It was scary to see you like that."

"You have no idea," he says, a small breath of laughter following his words. "You have no idea, the effect you can have on people."

I'm struck into silence, and he reaches toward me with a gentle hand, grasping my hand once again.

"I know you're not particularly into the whole feelings thing," he says softly, squeezing my hand, "but I really did just want to say thank you. And take you out here."

He sits down on the ground, patting the spot beside him. I plop down ungracefully next to him, sitting criss-crossed in the slightly damp grass. He rests his elbows on his knees, tilting his head back and looking toward the sky.

"Makes you feel small, right?" Peeta asks me, never taking his eyes off of the stars. "That's why I like to come out here. I can just shut up for a minute and think, and seeing all those thousands of stars…it can make all your problems seem pretty small. I think sometimes we all need that."

I'm still looking at him while he looks at the sky. "Yeah, I think we do," I agree quietly. I glance upward and try to achieve the type of serenity that he can find in just a couple of moments. A wave of tranquility watches over me as it all kind of melts away: my worries for Prim, Madge being in the Games, the fact that I slapped Gale Hawthorne today, the guilt over wishing that someone will kill Rory before Madge has the chance to die for him…

It's all gone, and it's just me and the sky and Peeta Mellark sitting beside me. I don't know how long we sit there, but he glances at a barely-ticking pocket watch and curses softly. 

"I should get you home," he says. "It's getting late."

He hops up and pulls me up with him, keeping a hold on one of my hands to lead me back down the trail. As soon as we exit the Seam and approach the square, he drops my hand with a small, somewhat pained smile. I think of asking him about it, but I've never been good at those conversations so I keep my curiosity to myself. He walks me to the bakery and we stop at the stairs leading in.

"I'll see you in two days?" he asks me, rubbing the back of his neck again. I'm starting to think it's some kind of nervous habit. "They'll be doing the interviews. I was thinking we could watch it together."

"Oh," I say, surprised. "I um, I figured you would probably want to watch it with Gale."

"He can watch, too," Peeta says with his same easy drawl. "If Gale Hawthorne stayed mad at me every time I'd hit him in the face…well, let's say we would have stopped being friends years ago."

I laugh gratefully and wish him goodnight, promising to meet him in the square in two day's time. I fall asleep dreaming of stars and the gentle warmth of flames.


	3. Chapter 3

The first day of Training dawns the day after the Tribute Parade, and I find Rory sitting at the table in the morning, barely touching the food in front of him. I run my hand over my makeup-less face, happy to feel myself again. I stand and watch for a moment before making my presence known. I give him my best smile and slide into the seat across from him.

"Hey there, superstar," I greet, pouring myself a glass of juice. "So I figured we'll stick together in training today, we can help each other out. I know quite a bit about knot tying, and when I was younger I used to fence."

He looks up at me with defeated grey eyes. "I don't know, Madge," he says softly. "Maybe it's best if we don't ally."

My blue eyes snap to him sharply. "Rory Hawthorne," I scold. "What is this about? Because on the train you said you would be my ally, that you would let me get you out of here."

"That was before I got to know you!" he bursts out, and for the first time, I see Gale Hawthorne in his little brother. Sure, Rory looks like a miniature version of his older brother, albeit a less filled-out version. Same messy dark hair, same grey eyes, same dark skin and startling sharp cheekbones. His jawline isn't quite as strong as his older brother's, but I assume that will come with age. Rory's personality, however, is mild-mannered and good-humored. He teases without malice, smiles easily, and even treats Effie Trinket with measured politeness. In this moment, though, I see his brother's fast temper for the first time.

I let out a breath and reach across the table, taking a firm grasp of his hand even as he tries to pull it away.

"Rory," I say gently. "We've been over this. You know that the only people who are going to miss me when I'm gone are Katniss and Prim, and they have each other. Your mother and your siblings, they've already lost too much, Rory. Don't let them lose you, too."

"I'm going to miss you when you're gone," he practically whispers, grinding the words out from between his teeth. "I can't…I can't kill you, Madge."

"We won't let it come down to that," I say to him reassuringly. "Okay? I promise. I promise you won't have to hurt me."

His grey eyes finally meet mine again. "I don't know if I want to survive."

His words hit me like a brick and I'm left reeling for a moment. "Rory, of course you do, sweetheart."

"Have you seen the Victors?" he asks me brokenly. "I mean, Haymitch is just one of the many. He's just a drunk, but the other ones…Johanna Mason and Finnick Odair, and not to mention Annie Cresta, she went completely mad!"

"You're strong," I say to him, ruffling his hair. "And you have a family who loves you more than anything. Those people, they're like me. They don't really have anyone to love, not like you do. See, if I win, I'll end up like Finnick Odair or Johanna Mason, maybe even Annie Cresta. But you? You'll end up like that one Victor from District 8."

"Who?"

"I think her first name is Cecilia," I say with a somewhat wistful smile. "I only really know of her because of the couple of times she's come through town on the Victory Tour and whatnot. She went on to lead a perfectly normal life. She's happily married and she has three kids."

"Really?"

"Really," I say gently. "Now eat your food, you need a lot of protein to help build up strength, okay?"

"Okay," he says with a small smile. I smile back at him and we eat in companionable silence. When I stand to get dressed for training, he stops me.

"I really meant it," he says solemnly, "when I said that I'll miss you when you're gone, if I win."

"When you win," I say to him with a small wink. "And I'd like it on the record now, I don't want you to miss me too much."

I am somehow unbelievably comfortable discussing the terms and conditions of life after my imminent death, and I blame it on shock. I don't think any of this truly feels like reality yet, but I meant everything I said to Rory. He's a sweet kid, probably one of the sweetest I've ever met, and I'm determined to help him survive this and come out in one piece. I know that I lied to him, though: no Victor truly wins the Games. Once you enter the Arena, it is obvious that you never really come back.

I dress quickly in the tight, breathable black pants and t-shirt that the Capitol has provided for me, and I meet Rory near the elevator. Haymitch is shockingly on the verge of sobriety, and I narrow my eyes at him cautiously. He was in the Games with my aunt, who I bear a striking resemblance to, and I know that he wants to get me out to make up for his failure in saving Maysilee.

"Don't show them too much," he tells us, and his voice is a somewhat less harsh version of its usual growl. "Stick together. Teach each other. Stay away from the Careers, and don't give in to any taunting."

"Thank you, Haymitch," I say, giving his arm a squeeze. "See you when it's over."

He nods. "I expect a full report on strengths and weaknesses of other tributes, Undersee."

"Affirmative, Captain," I tease him, throwing an arm around Rory's shoulders as we descend to the basement in the elevator, where the Training Gym is located. The doors open and I realize that we're the last ones to arrive. Many of the other tributes are already beating on dummies with weapons, mostly the Careers. I recognize the large hulking one practicing moves with a spear to be Cato, the tribute from District 2. Clove, his partner, is throwing knives with alarming accuracy a couple of stalls away, and the District 1 tributes, Glimmer and Marvel, are practicing sword fighting.

"Want me to teach you how to use a bow?" Rory asks me, his voice quiet. I can tell that he's overwhelmed by the sheer force of the other tributes, not to mention that he's the second youngest after Rue, the twelve year old girl from District 11. "Peeta and Gale have showed me a little bit. Peeta's a lot better than Gale, though. Plus he's more patient."

I laugh at that, the sound almost off-putting in the gym, where the only sounds are the grunts of kids training themselves for murder.

"Peeta is certainly more patient than you brother," I laugh. "I'd love to learn how to use a bow. We'll start at archery, then. And I can teach you a thing or two about swords after."

He nods his assent and we make our way to the empty archery station, nodding at the supervisor. Rory helps me choose a bow that is properly suited for my size, although I'm sure the one in the arena will be more of a one-size-fits-all type of thing. He helps me get my stance right, but my first few arrows either fall pathetically into the ground a couple of feet in front of me or nearly take out Rory's eye. He remains good-natured about the entire experience, and we spend most of the time at the archery station laughing together about my incompetence.

"You just need to focus," he chuckles. "You have the attention span of Posy, I swear."

"Your little sister seems to be the smartest of your whole clan so I'll take that as a compliment," I say mock-haughtily.

"I'm sure Posy would agree with you," Rory says before getting back to the task at hand. "Take a few deep breaths and clear your head. Just look at what's in front of you. That's what Peeta always says at least."

I close my eyes and take a couple of cleansing breaths, feeling the tension roll off of me. I open them again and focus purely on the targets ahead, stringing an arrow and sending it flying. To my shock, it hits a bullseye. I turn to Rory in shock, who is simply beaming.

"Told ya," he says with an encouraging grin. "You're a natural."

"I don't know if you could say that," I reply modestly.

"Keep going," Rory says. "Practice makes perfect."

He tells the supervisor to turn on the moving targets, and I nearly jump back in shock as computer-generated animals and people begin to run around the area in front of me. I close my eyes, take my two breaths, and reach into the quiver slung across my back. I fire off a few arrows and make contact each time. One of the larger human-esque targets begins to run at me, and Rory shouts directions from behind me.

"Roll in!" he yells, and without thinking I roll onto the ground, my bow poised and an arrow immediately strung. I shoot it from my lunged position on the ground and make contact directly between the eyes. "Hell yeah!"

I'm panting but I can feel myself practically glowing, proud of my accomplishments at the archery station. Maybe Rory was right, maybe I am a natural once I clear my head.

"Language, Hawthorne," I bark affectionately, and he rolls his eyes with an equal amount of affection.

"Let's get to that sword-fighting then," he grins, helping me up. We thank our supervisor, who seems surprised at our propriety, and then make our way to the fencing station. I help him choose the right length of sword, and quickly snatch one for myself.

"I think one of the more important things is defense," I say as we begin to circle each other. "The best form of offense is effective defense. If you can defend yourself, they can't kill you."

Rory nearly blanches at that, and I chide myself for using the k-word. Rory and I have ardently avoided using words like "kill" in preparation for the arena. Maybe we should be tackling the psychological training, but it's so much easier to just ignore it. Rather than acknowledging his obvious discomfort, I launch immediately into instruction, teaching him how to anticipate and block certain offensive maneuvers. To my surprise, Rory is extremely gifted with a sword.

"It appears that you and I are switching specialties," I say between heavy breaths as we take a break. I place my hands on my knees and look up at him through sweaty bangs. "You're really great at this."

He colors. "Thanks, Madge," he says. "I'll credit my lovely teacher."

"Lovely? You better watch out with your charm Rory Hawthorne. Don't go making me fall in love with you."

"I'm too late for that," he says in a deadpan voice. "I'm afraid another Hawthorne boy has stolen your heart already."

I resist the urge to narrow my eyes at him as he throws the secret I shared with him on the train in my face, even if he is just teasing. Instead, I play along. "You're right," I sigh dramatically. "Oh, beautiful, beautiful Vick…in all of his glorious nine years of age."

Rory bursts out laughing, and the sound is again unsettling in our current environment. The Careers look over and scowl at us, almost simultaneously crossing their arms over their chests. I let out a snort of derision.

"The Career robots are so in sync with each other," I mumble to Rory, who shoves a fist in his mouth to keep from laughing again. "Think they were all created in the same factory?"

We spend the rest of training at the plants station, learning what we can eat and what will kill us. I also casually watch the other tributes, finding that the Careers, as always, are going to be a force to be reckoned with. Cato is about four times as broad as Rory, although my thirteen year old ally is only an inch or so shorter than him, having inherited the Hawthorne height. Clove is extremely fast and has a coldness in her eyes that leads me to believe that she moves with no hesitation or second thoughts, just bloodlust. Glimmer appears ditzy and stupid, with her shimmery blonde hair a few shades lighter than my own, but it's evident that she's extremely cunning, and she's pretty good with a bow herself. Marvel is ridiculously strong, I note as he throws weights around that look heavier than me. The District 11 male tribute, however, gives him a run for his money at the weight station, and I take note of it. His partner, little Rue, soars above us all like a small bird, and her climbing skills are certainly not to be written off. Other than Districts 1, 2, and 11, I don't see anything particularly impressive, but I do note the girl from District 6, a redheaded little thing who looks to be extremely sneaky. I don't remember her name, and I refer to her internally as Foxface. When I share this with Rory on our way up the elevator, he bursts out laughing so hard that he can hardly breathe.

"Okay, I know I'm not that funny," I say.

"It's nothing," he wheezes. "Nothing at all."

"Tell me!" I nearly shriek, and I don't even bother to be embarrassed by the whiny quality of my voice.

"Before you started sitting with Peeta," he says once he's finally calmed down, "Gale could never figure out your name, and he always called you Bambi."

"Bambi?" I ask, confused.

"Bambi," Rory repeats. "Like the children's story? About the little deer?"

A small jolt of recognition floods my brain and I color. "I can't decide if that's an insult or not."

"It's not," he assures me quickly. "It's just cause you've got those big doe eyes and you're all innocent. It's just funny cause he used to call you a deer name and now you call her Foxface."

I roll my eyes and shove him lightly as we exit the elevator. We find Haymitch anxiously awaiting our arrival, and we tell him what we did during training. He's surprised that Rory is good with a sword, and even more surprised that I apparently have some sort of inherent archery skills. I give him my evaluation of the other tributes, and then he sends us off to rest.

As much fun as I've had with Rory today, I need a bit of time for myself, so I sneak off to my bedroom and lie down on the silky comforter. As I run my hands over it, I let my thoughts wander back to my home. I hope that Peeta is fulfilling his promise to me, and that he's watching after Katniss. More than that, I hope that they're getting to know each other. Katniss isn't the easiest person to get to know, but once you do, you can't help but love her. I know she's had a crush on him forever, and I hope that he'll be there for her to lean on when I'm gone.

_When I'm gone _has become a phrase that I throw around with far too much ease, and the gravity of the words finally starts to sink in to my chest. Before I can stop it, my throat tightens and my eyes burn with unshed tears. I swipe at them angrily and stand, tearing off my training outfit and pulling on a pair of soft linen pants and a grey shirt. I immediately climb back onto the bed and try to picture vividly all of the people that I will miss.

The first face in my mind is Katniss, her signature braid down her back and her grey eyes gleaming with silent laughter. After that is Prim, with her big, somewhat gappy smile, asking me to help her choose the perfect dress for her class Christmas party. Then there's Peeta, making me laugh during one of our lunches and standing up for me when boys from the Seam taunt me. After that is my mother, her bones jutting out painfully from her chest but a serene smile on her face as she places a hand on my cheek. Lastly I think of Gale, standing at my back porch with a basket of strawberries and a wry smile on his face in response to something Peeta said. Never because of me, of course.

My affection for Gale is all the more embarrassing due to his blatant disdain for me. While Katniss' crush on Peeta at least stands a chance at being reciprocal (and if my intuition is correct, is actually reciprocated), my own feelings for Gale could not be more opposite from his feelings for me. Rather than simply not paying any real attention to me, Gale absolutely hates me. In a lot of ways, I don't blame him; for years, he has been struggling to support and feed his entire family, while my own resides in a large mansion with running hot water. While they starve, my family throws out excess food every single night, given that my mother doesn't eat much and it's really just my father and me eating dinner, which is prepared by a member of the staff.

But I also wish he knew more about me. I wish that he realized how close I am with my dying mother. I wish he knew that my mother wasn't always sick, she only became sick after the Capitol came one day and took her away for months as punishment for when my father attempted to make conditions more equitable between the Town and the Seam. I wish he knew that ever since, my father drinks too much and he's terribly cold and sometimes he hits me, but I don't think he even remembers. I wish Gale knew that my life is far from perfect, and that my big fancy piano that he hates so much is my escape, my version of his woods.

But he'll never know that. I know that when Rory returns, he'll eventually tell Gale of my feelings for him. I hadn't meant to be so candid with the younger boy, but when he pressed me again and again why it was so important to me that he made it home alive even at the cost of my own life, it had come bursting out of my mouth.

_"Because I've been practically in love with your brother since I was nine!" I half-shout at him. "He hates me. I know that. But I care about him, and I care about your family. And I need you to get back home to him." _

As I ruminate over this, I start to systematically shut down the emotional content of my thoughts and try to filter them into a strategy. It suddenly strikes me that I have an opportunity during my interviews to really solidify my relationship with Rory to the Capitol audience, to make us a team that people will want to support. Just saying that I have an unrequited crush on his older brother isn't going to be enough, though, and I know it. District 12 has failed too catastrophically in the Games for that to be enough to gain a solid sponsorship.

I'm going to have to fabricate, use my father's political training to speak the way that comes so naturally to people like Peeta Mellark, who could probably sell milk to a cow. I'm going to have to lie, and I know that Gale will hate me even more for it, but it's not as though I'll have to suffer the consequences. Unfortunately, he might, but I know that the alternative, losing his younger brother to the Games, is far worse than what I have planned.

I wipe the tears off of my cheeks that I hadn't even realized were falling and I rise to my feet, slipping into a pair of thick cream socks and padding out into the hallway. Haymitch Abernathy might be a mess, but he's an expert at these Games, and I need to make sure that my strategy is even worth it.

I find him in the living room area, a bottle of liquor in one hand while his eyes stare blankly at the television in front of him at some Capitol comedy. I knock on the wall and he glances up at me with dull grey eyes that look somewhat glassy.

"Undersee," he grunts. I smile a little bit, taking a seat beside him on the couch. He tenses a little bit, and I wonder how often it is that he's really ever close to people.

"I have an idea," I blurt out, urging myself to not be intimidated by the man next to me. He raises his eyebrows.

"Do tell," he replies. I ignore the wreak of his breath and forge on.

"For the interviews," I supply. "I have a plan. But it's a lie."

He lets out a guffaw of laughter. "Now we're talkin'. Shoot, kid."

"This is a little embarrassing," I say, and I try my best not to let my face turn bright red. Telling Haymitch about my long-suffering crush on Gale Hawthorne feels incredibly inappropriate and I'm sure he won't even care, but it has to be said as a preface. "I've had this huge crush on Gale Hawthorne for like, ever. He's obviously never returned those feelings, but I was thinking…if, in my interview, I tell everyone that I'm going to get Rory home because I've been in a secret, forbidden romance with his older brother, we could really get a lot of sponsors. The Capitol loves star-crossed lovers, I've seen enough of their soap operas to know that, and-"

He cuts me off. "It's brilliant, kid. It's going to get him a lot of attention, and you, too. But are you sure this is what you want to do? Sacrifice yourself for the boy?"

He gives me a furtive glance through his greasy hair and I take a shuddering breath. It's now or never, this is the time to make my choice.

"I'm sure," I say confidently. "This is what I want to do."

He places his head in his hands for a moment and looks back up at me after what feels like forever. "God, Maysilee would kill me for this," he grumbles. "But okay. Okay, we'll save the boy."

And I know I've made the right choice, because there's a lightness in my chest that hasn't been there since the Reaping. I throw myself at Haymitch and gather him in a hug, and he awkwardly pats my back.

"You do know this act is going to rely on how well Gale Hawthorne can interview back in the Distict, right? It's going to rely on him to play along."

And then the lightness I feel disappears.


	4. Chapter 4

The night of the interviews, Peeta shows up at my front door with a reluctant-looking Gale in tow. As always, the dark haired boy is scowling, but it doesn't seem to be any worse than usual, so I figure that he's gotten over the slap I gave him. He nods at me in greeting and even tries to smile a little bit, so I give him a small smile in return.

"Ready?" Peeta asks me.

"Is it alright if Prim comes with?" I ask, having forgotten the other night.

"She's actually already in the Square with the kids," Peeta grins. "You're not a great babysitter, are you?"

I scoff at him. "I totally knew where she was."

"You so did not," he teases, and the three of us begin the walk to the Square, which isn't very far from my house. Gale stands, still a little tense, on the other side of Peeta, so I try to include him in the conversation.

"Hi Gale," I offer. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, thanks," he says politely, and I'm very surprised. Peeta looks pleased, and I wonder if he somehow coerced Gale into being this nice to me. "Pretty proud of Rory's training score."

I grin, remembering how excited I had gotten last night when the scores were announced. Rory scored an 8, only one point under a couple of the Careers, and the highest for anyone under the age of sixteen. Madge, to my absolute shock, received an 11; she tied with the hulking guy from District 2, who has some sort of one-syllable name I can't remember. I'm proud of her, but also afraid; I know that tributes with the highest scores are usually the first to be hunted down by the Career pack. If her and Rory are going to be staying together as I suspect they will, they're definitely going to be the first team on the Careers' list.

"I was really impressed," I agree. "I wonder what he did in the demonstration."

"He probably tied a snare or something," Peeta says proudly. "Something we taught him."

"Madge probably did something with a sword," I say. They both look at me, mouths slightly open. I laugh a little bit as we arrive in the Square. "She's been fencing for years, her dad made her learn. I guess it's a big thing for Capitol rich kids."

This causes Gale to tense a little bit more, but there's also a gleam of respect in his eyes. "Well, whatever she did, it was obviously pretty impressive."

"That's Margaret for you."

"Margaret?"

I roll my eyes. "Madge's name is Margaret. She hates it though, pretty much only lets Prim get away with calling her that. Even I get smacked, but no one can deny Prim anything."

"Looks like my little brothers are learning that," Peeta laughs, pointing across the Square where Prim is sitting with Aspen and Cedar on either side of her, both rapidly speaking over one another while she giggles.

I shake my head, my braid shifting off of my shoulder. "They're screwed."

"Obviously," Peeta says wryly, and there's something strange in his eyes as he looks at me. He crinkles his nose at me after a couple of moments of staring at each other, and Gale clears his throat.

"I think it's starting," he says, pointing at the giant screen. His own siblings are joining Prim and the Mellark boys, and his little sister is being held by his mom over near the front of the crowd, where she is surrounded by a group of miners' wives.

The seal takes up the screen, and then Caesar Flickerman's face is blown up on the screen. This year, his hair and lips are an alarming shade of purple, his teeth still shockingly bright.

"Welcome!" he begins enthusiastically. "To the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

The crowd goes wild, and I let out a derisive snort. Gale looks at me, a note of surprise on his face.

"Animals," I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest. He raises his dark eyebrows.

"That's some pretty blatant hatred, Everdeen," he says approvingly, and I shrug.

"Yeah, well, they took my best friend. Fuck them."

He nods once, a small smile on his features. I know that, to some extent, I have just earned some form of respect from Gale Hawthorne.

"Let's meet our Tributes!" Caesar shouts. "As always, we'll begin with the female tribute from District 1. Put your hands together for GLIMMER!"

Glimmer takes the stage, her blonde hair in wild waves, wearing a slinky see-through number. I again find myself praying that the District 12 stylists haven't put Madge in anything similar, and after the Tribute Parade, I trust that they didn't. Glimmer obviously takes the sultry, if not somewhat ditzy, approach in her interview. Her fellow District 1 tribute, a large boy around seventeen named Marvel, goes for the usual District 1 approach as well; he remains pretty stoic, grunting out answers that have little or no real charm to them.

"They're not very memorable," Peeta observes. "Neither of them really did much of anything."

"They don't have to," Gale argues. "They're Careers."

"Sure," Peeta shrugs. "But even as a Career, you've got to set yourself apart. Especially since I have a feeling Rory and Madge's scores probably already earned them a lot of sponsor interest."

Gale looks pretty pleased with Peeta's analysis, and we turn our attention back to the screen as a small brunette, the tribute from District 2, takes the stage. She's small, but she's absolutely terrifying. She's got obvious bloodlust and her teeth practically gnash together at the prospect of getting into the Arena. Her partner, however, horrifies me even more. He's absolutely huge, his biceps the size of my thighs. He's cocky and arrogant, and obviously eager to get to the Arena as well. I feel myself subconsciously edge closer to Peeta, who stands at my right. He puts his left arm around my back, not quite at my shoulders but not quite at my waist either.

"Hey," he says gently. "Madge can outsmart that tool, easy."

I look at him and try to swallow the panicked feeling that overtakes me at the idea of Madge facing that lunatic in the Arena.

"I really hope so."

"I know so," he says, giving me a small squeeze. I feel my body grow warm at his touch and the panic slowly begins to subside as I focus on his blue eyes.

The rest of the Tributes aren't really anything to write home about, and I feel bad that I'm happy about their lack of sponsorship prospects, but that's how the Games work: if Madge and Rory are going to stand a chance, then these other kids can't stand a chance either.

Then it's District 11's turn, and I nearly tune out because I'm so anxious for Madge's face to be on the screen. But then the female tribute takes the stage and I feel my blood run cold. She looks angelic in a white dress which contrasts against her glowing dark skin. She has big brown eyes and she's so, so pretty.

For a twelve year old.

She reminds me, heartbreakingly, of my own baby sister, so much so that I turn toward Prim in a panic just to reassure myself that she's actually here and not about to take the stage in the Capitol.

Rue. The girl's name is Rue, and I can feel bile rise in my throat as she charms Caesar with her innocence. She's absolutely adorable, and apparently the oldest of five siblings. When the precious little girl is done, she skips off of the stage so lightly that she almost looks happy. Her partner replaces her, a gigantic boy of seventeen who goes with the surly, hulking approach, and it works for him. He's nearly as terrifying as the Careers. I rack my brain for his training score right as Caesar helpfully mentions it. He scored a 10, one point below Madge and only two above Rory.

Finally, it's Madge's turn, and my best friend looks so strikingly beautiful that it knocks the breath out of me. Peeta lets out a low whistle and even Gale subconsciously makes a noise of approval. She's in a red, one-shouldered dress, decorated with gems of different yellows, oranges, reds, and even a few that are slightly purple: she is, once again, the Girl on Fire. Her blonde hair is curled and pinned so that the entirety of it rests on her shoulder where there is no strap. Her lips are an orange-y red, and her eyes are outlined perfectly in black. She smiles and exchanges pleasantries with Caesar.

"You look absolutely brilliant," Caesar compliments. "Absolutely stunning."

"I can thank Cinna for that," Madge blushes sweetly. "Watch what happens when I twirl!"

She stands and spins around over and over and over, and the gems of her dress glisten in a way that makes her look truly on fire all over again. The audience goes wild and she collapses in a giggling heap back in her chair.

"Now, Miss Madge, you absolutely _must _have a boyfriend back at home," Caesar gushes. "You're too beautiful and charming not to!"

"Well," Madge says, biting her lip and making her huge eyes appear even more coy than they look naturally. She leans into him conspiratorially. "Can you keep a secret?"

"You know I can!" Caesar guffaws, as though they are not being televised for the entirety of Panem.

"Well, there is a boy. District 12 is kind of divided. There's the Town, and then the Seam, where all the miners and their families live. I live in Town, obviously, as my father is the mayor."

Caesar nods solemnly. "I assume that this boy of yours, he's from this 'Seam', then?" he asks, putting air-quotes around the word Seam.

"Yes, yes he is," Madge gushes, suddenly appearing very excited. People begin to look back at me, and I try to mask my confusion. Whatever it is Madge is playing at, I'm sure she has a plan. "Ordinarily, citizens don't look to fondly on interrelationships between Town people and Seam people, and that's even more the case for me, since my father is such an important part of the District." Caesar hums in agreement. "But I just couldn't help myself, Caesar. I am so crazy in love with this boy. He's two years older than me…well, not quite, but close. We've had to keep the whole thing a very big secret, you know, because the gossip would have been just _terrible, _not to mention what my father would think of the whole thing."

"Forbidden love," Caesar sighs dramatically. "A tale as old as time."

"Oh, isn't it, though?" Madge says breathlessly. I refuse to even look over at Gale and Peeta, transfixed by the girl on the screen, who, while maintaining certain decidedly Madge traits, is also a completely different person than the one I have known most of my life.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be very pleased if you come back," Caesar says. "And nobody can question your choices, of course, once you're a Victor!"

"He won't be, Caesar," Madge says sadly, her blue eyes rapidly filling with tears. I can tell that they're fake, I've seen Madge cry enough times to know, but I'm still impressed with her ability to cry on cue like that. Her performance, if I didn't know her as well as I do, would have even me convinced that she has a secret Seam boyfriend. "Because I don't plan on coming home. Not at all."

The entire audience gasps dramatically, going nuts at the prospect that their new darling doesn't even want to win.

"Why ever not?" Caesar barely gets out over the buzzing of the crowd. "A beautiful young woman like yourself, madly in love, what more could you want to live for?"

"Oh, Caesar, it's not that I don't want to live," Madge says sadly. This part I can see is true, the tears in her blue eyes genuine. "It's that I absolutely cannot come home and let my district partner die."

"And why is that? I know that he can't possibly be this boyfriend of yours…."

"Oh, no, no, no," Madge denies, flapping her hands around to brush off the preposterous notion. "No, it's not Rory. But you know the young man he volunteered for? Gale Hawthorne?"

"Why yes, I think I do recall."

"That's Rory's older brother," Madge begins, taking a deep, shaky breath. "And he's also the love of my life."

The entire audience goes wild at this knowledge.

"So that's why I can't go home," Madge says. "Rory, he volunteered because he knew that Gale and I couldn't kill each other, he's one of the only people who knows about our relationship. It's pretty much just him and my friend Katniss, and his best friend Peeta. Rory knew we wouldn't survive even if one of us lived. But now I can't bring myself to win, either, because I could never live with myself, knowing that I was only alive at the expense of my Gale losing someone so precious to him."

Everyone is going wild on the screen, and the buzzer sounds as she wipes the tears from her face and manages a pretty, albeit shaken, smile. My jaw is nearly at my feet and Peeta sounds like he's choking on shocked laughter. I finally drag my eyes to Gale, whose grey eyes are wide as saucers. He notices at the same time that I do that everyone in the Square is staring us down, especially his mother. His hand is shaking as he runs it through his thick hair, and Peeta leans into him.

"Gale," he murmurs. "You've got to play along. This is going to save Rory's life, I promise you. You absolutely have to play along."

Gale shoots him an exasperated look that is equal parts tired and shell-shocked.

"They're going to interview you," Peeta continues, "and you've got to pretend to be crazy in love with Madge, okay?"

"I'm a terrible liar," Gale breathes, and I lean forward, too, taking it upon myself to offer some insight. His hands are curling and uncurling into fists, and I know he's about to explode.

"Just tell stories that are true," I offer, "and maybe twist them a little? You can talk about things you really know about her, that'll make it easier."

He hesitates, his jaw tight. "I don't know much at all."

"I can help you," I say, just as Rory takes the stage. He nods sharply and quiets down, staring at his brother on the screen.

Rory is dressed in a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a tie in the same shades of Madge's dress around his neck. He sits down beside Caesar with a sheepish grin.

"Rory," Caesar starts in immediately. "You _must _confirm. Is this true?"

"Oh yeah," Rory confirms and he seems to be lying with relative ease. Unlike his brother, Rory is an affable kid, and he doesn't seem to mind talking, even with the cameras trained on him. "My brother, Gale, he's wild about Madge. So after she volunteered, and then his name got called…I just couldn't let him go in there. He's a lot bigger than me, and much stronger, and he'd definitely win the Games, but I knew if he won and Madge was dead…well, he'd be better off dead, too."

"But now she's planning to die in your stead."

"Yeah," Rory says with a long-suffering sigh. "We've been arguing about it since the train, of course. She says he needs me more, I say he needs her more…we'll see who wins the fight, though. She's become like a big sister to me, especially since our time here in the Capitol."

"How's that?" Caesar asks with interest.

"Oh, she's just so funny," Rory says easily. "We laugh a lot, and we play around, and she treats me like a kid a little more than I'd like, to be honest. Madge," he laughs easily toward where she's seated, "you've _got _to stop calling me sweetheart. It reminds me of Haymitch." He earns a huge laugh at that, and their mentor smiles wryly and maybe a little fondly, waving them both off. "But she makes sure I feel safe and comfortable and she plays around with me like my siblings do. She makes everything less lonely. I really love her." And then the audience goes mad again.

I can literally hear Gale swallow hard, and I wonder if Rory's speech is as genuine as it sounds. I assume that Gale would know, the same way I could tell what was real about Madge's speech and what was fake.

"So tell me, Rory, what did you do that impressed the Gamemakers so very much? You're one of the youngest tributes, and yet you received one of the higher scores."

"That," he grins, "is a little secret between me and my partner. She taught me one or two things in training that I think are really going to help me in the Games."

"Oh really now?" Caesar continues, his interest piqued. "How fascinating!"

"She got her 11 because I taught her a thing or two myself," Rory says in a voice that is confident and teasing without sounding braggy. "So she can thank me for that."

"You two are just precious!" Caesar gushes. "Really like siblings!"

"Yeah, we really are," Rory says solemnly. "I just really hate that we have to be in this together, but the alternative would have been so much worse."

Then the buzzer sounds and the crowd goes crazy for him, and he leaves the stage to go join Madge for the final bow of the tributes. They immediately link hands and she holds them up with a watery smile. The two bow together when it's their turn, and he whispers something to her with a sly grin. Her jaw drops and she sticks her tongue out at him, smacking his arm while he laughs at her cheekily.

Then Caesar wraps it up, eagerly announcing that the Hunger Games will begin the following day. The broadcast concludes, and I'm glad that the Capitol doesn't send cameras into each District for interviews until the top 8.

"Gale," I say cautiously, "she did what she needed to do to make them want to save Rory."

"I guess," he grunts. "I just…they couldn't have done it differently?"

"I guess not," I shrug. "If they could have, I'm sure they would have."

I don't tell him that the strategy was obviously derived from Madge's very real feelings for him. I have a feeling that he wouldn't be very receptive of the whole thing, and I really, really don't want to end up slapping him across the face like last time we got into it over Madge.

"I just…I need some space," he says, running his hand over his hair again. "Peet, can you…?"

"Yeah," Peeta assures him immediately, without Gale even having finished his sentence. "Don't worry about it, I've got it covered."

The olive skinned boy stalks off into the distance, looking like he's headed toward the meadow where Peeta took me just a few nights ago. It feels like it's been a lifetime since we sat under the stars.

"I've got to get Gale's siblings home," Peeta says wearily. "But when I'm done, do you maybe want to hang out for a bit?"

"Sure," I say, a little too quickly. "That sounds fine."

"Great," he beams. Gale's mother appears suddenly, eyeing me a little wearily before giving Peeta a quick hug.

"Hi, sweetheart," she says warmly. "I'm just grabbing the kids and then heading home. Do you want me to watch Cedar and Aspen for a bit?"

'That would be amazing," Peeta gushes, giving the woman a peck on the cheek. "Katniss, this is Hazelle, Hazelle, this is Katniss."

We shake hands, and hers is calloused in mine. She gives me a sweet smile. "Nice to meet you, Katniss. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Oh, well…" I say awkwardly, trailing off as Peeta colors. She hustles off, calling out to her brood and ushering them out of the Square. She walks with her head high, ignoring the looks of pity that nearly everyone is giving her.

"So where to?" I ask Peeta, decidedly ignoring Hazelle's comment.

"Well, I'm pretty sure our spot is occupied by Gale," Peeta jokes easily, and there's a strange feeling that climbs up from my stomach and into my chest when he refers to the meadow as "our" spot. "But I have another idea."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "What if I had an idea?"

"Well, then, I would be intrigued."

I grin at him and start walking, and he practically has to jog to keep up with me. I turn back to him and place a finger to my lips, indicating for him to be quiet. We've reached the Justice Hall, the tallest building in Town. It's also mine and Madge's favorite spot in District 12, but not because of what's inside. Rather, Madge and I love the view from the roof, and after Peeta showed me his meadow, I figure it's my turn to show him a part of me, too.

I find the fire escape at the back of the building pretty easily, and I take a few steps back, running and jumping to grab the retractable ladder. The metal creaks noisily down and I wince; it always does this, and I'm always convinced I'm about to get caught. I never have been, though. The security at the Justice Hall is surprisingly lax, and the way that the lights in the Square reflect, nobody can really see you on the roof anyway. I turn back to him once the ladder is down, and I find him gaping at me.

"Are we about to climb the Justice Hall?" he whispers, blue eyes wide.

"Why?" I shoot back. "Scared?"

He shakes his head. "I poach on a regular basis, Everdeen. Game on."

We clamber up the ladder, me in front of him, and I swear I hear him make a strangled sound of some sort at one point. When I look back, his cheeks are vaguely pink in the dark. We finally make it to the top, and I immediately rush toward the edge that faces toward the Square.

He lets out a low whistle as he comes up behind me, his left hand warming my lower back. I look at him in shock and find that he's just looking straight forward. His natural ability to just be…affectionate, completely alarms me, and I try not to tense too much. I've spent years thinking about what it would be like to have his calloused hand touch me, and I'm not about to ruin it just because I remembered that I don't really like to be touched by anyone.

"Talk about making your problems seem small," he murmurs, referencing the last time we spent time together. I nod.

"Madge and I come up here when we need to talk or if we just want to sit in silence but not be alone, ya know?"

"I know what you mean," Peeta says. "As you can imagine, a lot of my friendship with Gale is silent."

I laugh, plopping down on the roof. I clutch my knees to my chest and he sits beside me, resting his elbows on his knees like I've seen him do a million times. The sleeves are rolled up to just under his elbows, as usual.

"How come you always roll up your shirt sleeves?" I ask, mostly out of curiosity.

"Most of my shirts were my dad's," Peeta says simply. "He was gigantic, way bigger than me. So the sleeves are way too long. Look."

He unrolls one of them, and I laugh a little bit. He was right, the sleeves hang nearly six inches off of the tips of his fingers.

"That's actually kind of adorable," I giggle. I pause abruptly. "I mean…"

"It's alright," Peeta grins as he rolls his sleeve back up. "You're allowed to find me adorable, you know, most people do."

"Oh shut up," I snap, holding my knees tighter to myself. He sighs.

"Ya know, you're a pretty closed off girl."

"I don't mean to be," I say defensively. "I just…am. By nature, I guess."

"That's fine by me," he shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. "As long as you let me in eventually."

I don't say anything in return, mostly because I can't think of a proper response. He scoots a little closer to me and drapes one arm around my shoulders. I look over at him and he shrugs again.

"It's cold," he says with a cheeky smile. I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth curves up a little bit.

"Tell me something about you," I say suddenly.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything," I say. _Everything, _I think.

"Well, you know my brothers are pretty much the bulk of my life," he says, still looking out at the view. "Cedar was only a year old when my dad died, so he doesn't remember him at all. He's the joker of the family, he's always messing around and trying to prank Aspen, cause Aspen is so serious. Like, real serious. The kid is basically 40 years old. He was eight when Dad died, and he took it pretty hard. He didn't totally understand death, just understood that my Dad was gone and he wasn't coming back, and that my mom was totally different."

"How so?"

"When my dad was alive, she was happy," Peeta explains. "She used to hum and sing and she was really genuinely happy. She's from Town, originally, that's where the blonde hair comes from," he says, pulling at his curls. "But when he died, she hated that he left her in the Seam, I think. With three boys and no daughters who could marry into Town and rescue her. She's bitter, but I know she still loves him, still misses him."

"Those bruises," I say suddenly, and I want to take it back, but I've already started. "The ones on your face sometimes. That's not from the woods, is it?"

"No," he says quietly, and his gaze fixes on the roof. "She uh…sometimes she gets really angry, if Aspen won't stop crying or if Cedar gets a bad grade, or if I'm not bringing in enough coin."

I instinctively release my knees and lean into him, putting a hand on his face, halfway in his impossibly soft blonde hair.

"That's terrible," I whisper. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," he says in his usual way, and he smiles, but it's empty. I hate it.

"Don't make it seem okay," I say. "You don't always have to, you know? You don't have to smile all the time."

His blue eyes darken and the smile falls off of his face, but he doesn't look sad, or angry. I can't place the expression on his face, but his eyes drift toward my lips and he begins to lean in. Something orange bursts behind him, on the side of the Justice Hall that faces the Seam. My eyes grow wide and he shuts his, wincing.

"I'm sorry," he begins, his voice practically a groan.

"No, no," I say, brushing off his apologies for what I think was an almost-kiss. "Fire!"

His eyes grow wild as he looks behind him. A fire has caught in the Seam, and he's on his feet in an instant, dashing down the ladder and clambering down it. I follow him, but I'm not nearly as fast as he runs. He skids to a stop in front of the fire, looking around at all of the people gathered in the street.

"Thom!" Peeta exclaims, sounding relieved. A boy about our age, maybe Gale's, has his arm around an older woman, who holds the hand of a young girl around Prim's age. "Everyone okay?"

"Yeah," the boys says shakily. "We're all out."

"Alright," Peeta says, his voice taking on a business-like tone. "You guys," he says loudly, pointing at one group of people, "grab your wash-basins. You," he says to another group, "go wait by the well. Start filling as they're brought to you. And we," he says, gesturing at himself and the last group, "will take them from the middle men (he indicates the first group), and throw it on the fire. Let's move, people!"

And shockingly, everyone jumps to action. Gale appears as if from nowhere, his olive skin gleaming with sweat. A few moments later, someone roughly shoves a heavy wash basin full of water into my hands and I immediately turn and throw it onto the fire. Peeta, Gale, Thom, a few others, and I throw and throw and throw, eventually putting the fire out. The building is blackened, but parts of it are still standing, and most of the furniture looks like it can actually be saved. Peeta arrived in time and moved everyone so efficiently that it looks as though Thom and his family didn't lose too much.

"Not bad, Townie," Gale commends, and I see that there is no malice in his eyes. "Nice work."

"Thanks," I blush, wiping the sweat from my face. "I should probably head back, my parents are probably worried."

"Let me walk you," Peeta pants out. "It's pretty dark and I don't want you to get lost."

He reaches a soot-covered hand out to me and I take it, ignoring Gale's wolf whistle as we walk toward Town.

"Thank you for helping."

"What else was I supposed to do?" I shrug.

"I know, I know, but thank you anyway."

"Don't mention it."

We walk in silence until we reach my front steps.

"Listen, about the roof," Peeta begins, and I turn to look at him. He suddenly stops in his tracks, shakes his head a little bit, and then says, "ya know what, screw it."

He presses his lips to mine quickly, and he tastes like smoke and sweat, but it sends a rush straight to my head as we part nearly as quickly as he kissed me.

He smiles, looking quite pleased with himself. "Always told myself he would do that."

I'm practically just gaping at him, but he wipes a bit of soot from my face and grins at me.

"Goodnight, Katniss."

And then he's walking back toward the Seam, hands shoved in the back pockets of his dirty jeans. I watch him walk away and then dash upstairs to wake up Prim. I tell her everything that happened and she giggles at all the right places, but it all just makes me miss Madge.

And then I remember that the Games start tomorrow, and the giddiness that set in since Peeta kissed me dissipates rapidly. I hardly sleep, tossing and turning, afraid to close my eyes because whenever I do, I see Madge cut down in the bloodbath.

It's dawn before I know it, and I peel myself out of bed grudgingly, determined to bake at least a few things before it's time for the mandatory viewing.


End file.
